Fragments of an Exile
by FoxCort24
Summary: All shards can be pieced together, yet never fully restored. Within a desolate abyss, one man discovers the significant price for recognizing the ultimate remnants of his destiny.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

An intense, searing bolt of lightning struck across the sky, paralleled with an immediate roar of thunder in its wake. Splitting the sky as it struck, it momentarily illuminated the granite cliffs and plunging waves below. The sea churned and crashed along the jagged pillars of stones as the sky erupted above in a cacophony of boisterous turmoil, the wind ushering the immense storm through the edge of the coast. Another wave exploded as it collided with the cliffs; another ominous streak of lightning lit the besmirched vacant land. Through the precarious bedlam and chaos wreaking havoc upon the shoreline, another crack of electricity appeared; however, this voltage originated near the ground and was laced with indigo and azure currents. As the squall raged on above, a solitary figure materialized from the sapphire bolt, stepping forth in the torrent of rain and wind at the edge of the pinnacle summit overlooking the ocean. His cape whipping behind him, he sneered down at the intensifying whitecaps, his eyes penetrating the muddled and frenzied water. Drenched, he stood, examining and studying; rain blurring his vision as he hastily wiped his brow in vain. His frustration mounting, he let a feral growl escape his throat as he began walking beside the outline of the precipice.

Mozenrath continued to peer into the depths below, his eyes carefully tracing the abysmal breaks within the waves, prudently waiting for a measured motion. When at last he caught glimpse of his prey, his voice broke through the discord of the storm. Straining over the colossal supremacy and clamor of the gale, he bellowed his enchanted command, each syllable of the spell vigilantly enunciated and accentuated to ensure success. His eyes locked on the lurking figure positioned near the surface of the water, and he sustained the incantation, each word embedded in his memory from relentless hours of obsession. Precipitously cognizant now of Mozenrath's lure, his target began to combat his snare, the supernatural tendrils gradually gripping and constricting around his intended victim. The water below began to thrash anew and Mozenrath smirked. His voice persisting to holler over the storm barreling rampantly through his spell, he concluded the final lines and saw the water begin to glimmer. Efficaciously, he observed as his prey was gripped securely within the enchanted restraints of his summons and was elevated effortlessly from the water and hovered near him, allowing him to smugly survey his conquest. His victim writhed defenselessly, struggling against the infinite power of the spell, ineffective in regaining its freedom.

"Don't waste your energy," Mozenrath commented arrogantly, "Not even a genie could sever the magical shackles in this spell."

Upon his words, the figure stopped, subsiding against its captor. "What do you want with me?"

With a chuckle, Mozenrath shook his head, "We'll get to that later."

The menacing storm continued to splinter and vent above them, intermittently igniting flashes to illuminate the victim he had ensnared. Fleetingly, he observed her, the breathtaking and stunning siren he successfully entrapped, her exquisite eyes penetrating through the bleak eruption of the squall. Glaring at her abductor, he watched her internally wrangle with her hollow options, and her desolate revelation she was resigned to his demands. Suggestively, he winked at her before twirling his cape across them both, enveloping their bodies in a blanket of cobalt electricity before they both instantaneously vanished from the cliff. Within moments of their departure, the sky settled and cleared, the final drops of rain smattering across the sand tapped lightly as the ocean water below leveled. As the clouds dissipated and the moon reflected against the placid sea, Mozenrath returned home to the Land of the Black Sand, proudly smirking at his conquest and the commencement of his enemy's undoing.


	2. Temptation

**Temptation**

As Mozenrath and his captive reappeared in his expansive study, she plummeted to the floor with an incensed huff. The magically charged chains evaporated and released their constrictive grasp on her, allowing her to regain her composure and prop herself up along his sprawling, lavish rug. As she squirmed before him, her discomfort quite apparent, he fought to keep from grinning like a dolt. It had taken him months to secure and memorize the incantation responsible for plucking her from the ocean so seamlessly, and now as he gazed upon her spectacular beauty, he realized it had been worth every neurotic moment. Tracking her down had been the elusive part, as sirens rarely make their presence known, and are even less likely to inhabit coastal areas such as the one he traced her to. Nonetheless, he had his prize before him, despite the convoluted and complicated procedures it had taken to secure her. Her fin thrashed against his floor in resentment and ire, her fury evident as she met his indifferent gaze.

"Why don't you slip into something more comfortable?" He suggested before uttering several lines of another spell under his breath. Within moments, a hazy opaque glow surrounded her waist before expanding with an absorbent hum. As it broke, the siren gazed down in wonder and astonishment as she viewed two slender legs in place of her lengthy, emerald tail. The scales, fins, and gills had faded, leaving her disoriented and frail on the floor, staring in perplexity at her new form.

Enraged with the unexpected transformation, she snarled as her eyes blazed, "Change me back, mortal!"

Mozenrath sat in an ornate chair, the intricate details etched along the frame in delineation with his shoulders and arms as he relaxed against the plush fabric with a sigh, "No."

"Why did you do this? Why am I here? What do you want from me?" Her questions rattled on as she sat before him on the floor, nude and infuriated, and incredibly tantalizing to his senses.

Shushing her as one would chide an impatient child, he paused for a moment before addressing her questions, "As I said before, we'll get to that later. I am Mozenrath. Lord of the Black Sand. I was in need of a siren's … skills, and happened to come across you." His voice was carnal, he noticed, his desire and attraction to her breaking through his defenses. Inwardly scolding himself for not controlling himself better, he straightened in the chair and began examining a nearby charm manuscript to feign disinterest.

Stretching her legs, the siren took a moment to admire her newfangled limbs and began appreciating her abrupt predicament. Although this wasn't the evening she had planned when she had sensed an approaching fishing ship trying to out-maneuver the storm, she was acquiescent to discover his intentions for her. While he wasn't the typical type of man she usually ensnared within her claws, he was sufficient enough, and visibly dominant in numerous ways. She studied him casually, noting the skeletal appearance of his right hand, refraining from inquiring about his superficial flaw. With caution, she attempted to stand, her knees buckling beneath her as she leaned against an adjacent shelf for support. After a few strained seconds, she raised with simplicity, her body intuitively balancing and adjusting to the adaptation in posture. Her body taut and bare before him, she shifted, a sultry smile forming across her flawless, pouty lips. Her hair draped along her back to mere inches above her hind, sable and full, lush as it ostensibly shone in the dim lighting of his citadel.

His eyes peeking from atop the document he was pretending to study, and he gaped, incapable of breaking his stare on her. Gawking like a prepubescent boy, he felt all control drain from him instantaneously and collect irrevocably at his waist. He had known this was a probable risk, he had studied for weeks on the influences of a siren, but he had been arrogant to believe he could withstand and ignore the smoldering seduction of a femmes fatales such as this. He was aware of the peril he was sauntering closer to, knowing the irreversible disaster she could bequeath him with merely a kiss. Swallowing, he put down the document he had been holding and watched her approach him, her hips swaying in the candlelight as her eyes apprehended his willpower. As she reached him, her hands ran down his torso as she leaned towards him, her unadorned and curvaceous chest inches from his face, his eyes unable to break her trance.

Her voice, melodic and harmonious as it spoke to him, ignited a lust and hunger within him he could scarcely regulate, "Tell me …" she purred against his ear, "Tell me what I can do for you, my Lord."

His left hand was on her before he could comprehend his own motions, his right tightly clutching the chair he was incapable of leaving. His fingers traced her side, caressed her supple skin as he grasped her voluptuous bottom and felt the sweltering heat radiating from her unrequited passions. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of a woman, sensed her yearning matching his own … since he had driven himself into the lustful urges only a woman could deliver. He ached, agonizingly and violently, as he touched her and plunged unwittingly into her clutches.

"What would you like to do to me?" She hummed, the warmth of her breath sending chills along his spine, her voice dripping with sexual femininity, a prowess Mozenrath was inept to interrupt. He was unable to answer her questions, his own voice lost within his penetrating fiery longing for her, his focus set on the erotic physique before him. With a seductive smirk, she continued, "Or rather, what would you like me to do to you?" At her words, he tightened, his groin igniting as he longed for her, ached to enter her depths and renounce all control and mortality, to surrender willingly to her temptation if only for a taste of her. His core burned for release, to dive deep within her and drink from her, ardently drown in her torridity. Her lips parted as she moved towards his, his mouth eagerly waiting to mate with hers.

Just before they were to kiss, a voice broke their sweltering exchange, "Master all right?" Xerxes interrogated as he slithered into the room, irritated to find a naked woman nearly perched on a noticeably mesmerized Mozenrath.

As if emerging from an encompassing haze, Mozenrath briskly shook his head to clear the muddled fixation, and promptly shoved the siren from him. Tumbling backwards, she fell against his desk, furious from the disturbance. Never before had Mozenrath been so grateful for his eel companion; usually exasperated by its constant annoyance, he was now eternally appreciative his pet was always near. "How dare you," he began, his right hand curling into a fist, perpetually craving for his beloved gauntlet, "You have no idea who you are messing with, little girl."

"No, I do," she refuted with a shake of her head as she straightened, "You are a weak, horny little boy, just like the rest of them."

"Watch your tongue," he warned with a growl.

"A few more seconds, and I would have had _your_ tongue." She smirked, examining her immaculate nails as she leaned against his desk. Incredulously, he ogled, recoiled at how rapidly she was able to reignite his desire once again with such simple motions. Xerxes floated to his shoulder, resting against Mozenrath as he watched the siren suspiciously. Mozenrath uttered a few incomprehensible words and the siren was instantaneously dressed in flowing robes, the fabric stiff and unflattering. "Can't take the heat, hmm?" she commented as she gazed down upon the new clothing.

His eyes narrowed at her, scrutinizing her every movement, her every word, unwilling to fall prey to her deceptions again. "I have a job for you," he began, focusing on the initial reason he had troubled himself with her capture in the first place, "I need your expertise to bring the downfall of a particular thorn in my side."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Why would I help you? I have no interest in being landlocked."

" … Because I can give you your deepest wishes, I can offer you what no one else can or will ... I can grant your freedom; and I don't mean freedom from me - I mean the ultimate liberation you desire, the freedom from the restraints of your wretched curse."

She stared at him, sizing him as she considered his words, disinclined to permit herself even the faintest aspirations of optimism. "How?"

"Leave that part up to me. Just know I can make it come true sweetheart, and I will, as soon as you take care of my minor problem."

"How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?" She arched a brow, watching him as he rose from his chair, his eel in his wake following him as he stepped towards a tower of dusty books.

"Let's just say, I would be so indebted to you, I will eagerly fulfill your wishes out of sheer gratitude and … joy." His mouth nearly twitched into a smile, but remained deadpan as he watched her contemplate his offer.

"And what if I decline?"

"Then you can regret your decision for the rest of your miserable life in the pit of my dungeon," he threatened ominously as his eyes darkened, averse to allowing her to refuse him.

"Well, when you put it that way," she shrugged nonchalantly, toying with a beaded adornment on her robes, "What will you have me do?" She looked up at him, her eyelids fluttering as her head turned slightly, her hips curved as she angled towards him. Again, the coils of her leisured seduction began to weave across the room and grasp at him, threatening to squeeze him into submission.

Xerxes watched the clouded concentration of Mozenrath falter in abhorrence and brusquely slapped his cheek with his tail. With a blush, he retreated as Mozenrath's wrath snapped towards him crossly, "Helping," Xerxes pleaded as he backed away. With a controlled breath, Mozenrath's fury withdrew as he realized his pet's concerns and was thankful for his astute actions.

"Stop that," Mozenrath commanded with irascibility, pointing a finger at her, "Save it for the job."

"And what is this job?" She queried, crossing her arms with an elongated exhale.

"There is a city, not far from here, called Agrabah," he began, throwing an elaborate map on the desk between them, unrolling it so it would land before her. Peering at the illustrated cartouches, she arched a brow, unimpressed and apathetic to the desert lifestyle. "Within that city, there is a street-rat named Aladdin, and this particular street-rat is the reason my conquests have been futile as of late … and, he possesses a certain artifact I am, shall we say, anxious to reunite with." At the mere thought of his gauntlet, he clutched his skeletal hand in distress.

"And you needed _me_ for this? You took me prisoner for _this_?"

"Listen, do you want your freedom or not?" He snapped irritably before continuing, "The reason I need you is for your obvious set of abilities, as he doesn't give in willingly."

"Real annoying," Xerxes gruffly added with a nod.

"Could this be any easier?" she laughed.

"It's not as easy as you would think," Mozenrath warned, rolling the map and securing the scroll back on the shelf it originated from. "He's of the purest hearts, and is not attracted to greed or power. He is not easily swayed."

"And princess too," Xerxes reminded Mozenrath.

"Yes, and he has a princess he is quite fond of, to say the least. She's his weakness, if he has one, and he won't readily stray from her."

"All men can be led astray," she smirked provocatively, "All it takes is the right catalyst … the right spark."

"However your methods, and I implore you to do your best, it matters not to me how you succeed. Once you have …. _enticed_ the street-rat, you will also need to find my gauntlet, an auburn glove I'm sure they're holding under lock and key. Upon retrieving it and taking care of Aladdin, summon me with the gauntlet and I will grant your wish for freedom."

"That's it?" she questioned deviously, eyeing him as Xerxes glided along the room, watchfully vigilant of her every move, "I bed a street-rat and steal a glove?"

"That's it." He nodded with a grin, shrugging at the simplicity of his demands. Of course there were finer specifics of his eventual goal she did not need to know, so he was resigned to allow her to believe her role was short. In the event his plans were realized and her deception a victory, Mozenrath would be setting in motion the concluding collapse of Agrabah, originating with Aladdin's demise.

"Anything else I should know?"

Pausing, he deliberated her question before relinquishing more details, "He has a genie and a magic carpet."

"What?" Shaking her head and backing from the table, the siren shook her hands defensively as she ambled from him, "Whoa, whoa, whoa … I don't deal with genies. The deal is off."

"Aw," he cooed, placating her as he pouted his bottom lip, "... what's wrong? Can't handle the semi-phenomenal, nearly cosmic menfolk?"

"My talents don't work on them … they can see right through me. If he has a genie at his beck and call, there's no way I'll be able to get close enough to—"

"Then you _better_ try your best … or risk facing my wrath." he beseeched, his fists tightening once more as he felt her apprehension and dreaded she would be unsuccessful. He was running out of tricks in his proverbial hat and needed this to work; it _had_ to work.

"Fine," she countered, "But we need to sweeten this deal then. The presence of a genie is going to require more effort on my end, and so it's going to cost more from you."

He could hardly believe her impudence. Blinking at the audacity, he balked, "Excuse me?"

"If I'm successful, you get your revenge and mitten or whatever, and I my freedom. Yet, if I am unable to defeat this Aladdin and find your glove, we know I'm not going to receive my freedom – so I require more of an insurance policy on your end."

"That is preposterous," he scoffed with a roll of his eyes, "This isn't a bargaining table!"

"That's _exactly_ what this is! My charm doesn't come cheap, my Lord."

Pausing for a beat, he considered her words, and pondered aimlessly at her previous exploits on his own willpower. He was certainly much stronger and powerful than Aladdin, and he had nearly succumbed to her within minutes – what chance did that boy stand? "Fine," he capitulated through a clenched jaw.

"Good," she smirked triumphantly, clasping her hands together at her waist, "All it takes are a few words, and we'll seal the deal."

"I wait on bated breath, pray tell ... what is the payment on my end if you're unsuccessful?"

"Nothing you would part with, nothing you would have to conjure, nothing you would have to provide. _Fragmenta functum olim pro tua."_ She chanted casually, her voice dreamily accentuating each word as she gently caressed his cheek and peered into his eyes. Xerxes didn't allow the interchange to last as he slinked between them and detached her link, but it was all she required. With a grin, she exhaled acutely.

Shaking his head and brushing away her wisps of enticements, Mozenrath backed away. "Do what I require and your wish is done," he reminded her, preparing to throw his cape across her frame and propel her to Agrabah.

"It will be done," she assertively declared and vanished, leaving Mozenrath with Xerxes in his study, gazing at the void where she had previously stood. As she disappeared, the air in his citadel cleared; the fog in his brain lifting as he regained all aspects of control.

With a heavy breath, he licked his lips and replayed their conversation, searching for a loophole or way for her to escape his contract. Xerxes surveyed his master, worried at how shaken he was by the actions of the siren. "Master okay?" he questioned, floating to Mozenrath's shoulder.

"I'm fine, Xerxes. It's Aladdin who should be worried," he remarked as his lips curled into a conniving sneer, "… that street-rat has no idea what's coming his way."


	3. Crosscurrent

**Crosscurrent**

As she felt the sand shift beneath her fresh feet, she cringed, her lip curling in resentment and annoyance. She felt so … dry. Mozenrath had teleported her to the edge of Agrabah, just barely inside the city walls. Glancing down, she noted her new apparel he had apparently donned upon her during the instant transport, scant and revealing, exceptionally fleshly as it accentuated her curves and left very little to the imagination. Dressed in a silver and sheer harem ensemble, she traced a hand along the delicate fabric and adjusted the tight adornment on her head carefully holding her hair in an intricate and elegant braid.

"What kind of taste does this Aladdin have?" She commented softly in bewilderment.

As she took in her surroundings, the city looked peaceful before her, the moon iridescently shining in the distance and illuminating her trek through the maze of streets. Her eyes caught glimpses of others out in the night, yet most were resigned to their homes or shops, closing for the evening and refusing to stray from the safety of their shelters. In the distance, she heard a scuffle, yet it was quickly quieted. Strolling down the center promenade, she recognized the revelation that many must not venture out at night for fears of welfare from murderers and thieves, yet they were of little concern to her. As if testing this theory, she sensed a figure stealthily approaching her.

With a click of his tongue, a thief stepped forward in the misty moonlight and pushed her crudely into a nearby alley against a stone wall. Glancing to the left and right, he searched for any signs he had been spotted and was elated when he found the alley abandoned and isolated. Holding a jagged dagger to her throat, he looked her up and down and leered sinfully, "Now what is such a pretty thing like you doing out so alone this late at night? Don't you know these streets are unsafe for women? Men might … take advantage of you," he sneered suggestively as he flicked the dagger blade against her neck and trailed it to her cleavage, his other hand roughly roaming her body, delighted she was not resisting or struggling against his hold. He had taken women in the streets before like this, repulsively and violently stealing their virtue as he emptied himself in them, yet none had _allowed_ his advances before. He had been watching her as she had wandered the streets, perplexed why such a beautiful and barely dressed woman such as this was unescorted through the treacherous streets at night. Regardless, he snickered as his revolting craving intensified, her mistake would result in his pleasure.

With a smirk, her eyes met his, and instantaneously his grip on the dagger loosened and it tumbled to the gritty ground below. Allowing his grubby hands to continue to caress her, she pretended to be aroused by his advances and leaned towards the filthy criminal, further ensnaring him within her provocative talons. Nearly drooling, he inhaled her intoxicating aroma and vanished within her beguiling seduction, imprisoned within her strident control. Suckling on the siren's neck, the thief was putty in her hands. As his mouth moved towards hers, she grinned as she kissed him deeply; her tongue liberally moving alongside his, binding his chain to her forever. Upon breaking the embrace, the thief stood soullessly, entranced by his mistress and awaiting her instructions.

"There's a good, stupid pet," she cooed, caressing his cheek before slapping it. "Now, tell me where I can find Aladdin."

As she directed, he obeyed. "The palace," he responded monotonously, his eyes dreamily attached to her. "He and Princess Jasmine returned today."

"Hmm," she hummed, her eyes slanting as she peered at the irradiated and grandiose palace in the distance. "Pick up your dagger," she commanded as she turned her attention back to her minion. As she directed, he obeyed, plucking his blade from the sooty grime beneath their feet. "Good boy," she smiled, leaning closely and whispering softly in his ear, "Now slit your throat."

As she directed, he obeyed.

Stepping over his lifeless, bloodied corpse in the street, her eyes fixated on the shrine of the city, a beacon to all the dwellers within its walls, and began her stroll to the palace gates. The only remaining obstacle to breaking that vile curse was a _man_, a mortal, and he was not going to keep her from obtaining her freedom, and unfortunately for him, that meant his own demise.

* * *

Earlier that day, Aladdin and Jasmine had returned, eagerly greeted by their friends and her father, all clamoring to hear about their travels on their honeymoon. In truth, it had been a blissful trip, the days spent in the simplicity of their shared company, the evening hours spent with passionate and ardent desire, as they savored in the ability to surrender to the longing that had been building since the moment they met a few years before. It was a dream come true, a beautiful and perfect beginning to their marriage, everything they had both hoped it would be. Almost exactly a month since their wedding, they found their enjoyment in spending every moment with each other, appreciating the fact they no longer had to sleep apart or say goodbye at the end of the day. It truly was the foundation of their new lives, a new start to their future, and an incredible commencement of the years to come.

Now, as the sun had set, both felt the effects of traveling and the early stages of exhaustion begin to set in. With a satisfied sigh, Jasmine entered her new chambers, nearly giddy as she gawked. Aladdin was close behind, lost in conversation with Genie and Abu as he entertained their friends with stories of their journey and where they had gone during their absence. Eagerly, her eyes danced around the space as she recognized old pieces of furniture transferred from her childhood room, and new pieces for Aladdin, including an armoire for his assortment of clothing and a much larger, impressive bed than she had ever been accustomed to. Trailing her fingers along her bureau, she pulled open a drawer and began to choose an outfit for the evening, blushing slightly as she smiled, thinking ahead to their first night in their new room together.

As her fingers unexpectedly brushed against a folded envelope, her brow furrowed in confusion and she tugged it free from its spot. The envelope was not addressed, yet it was clear it had been left for her. Opening the letter, she beamed as she realized it had been written by Aladdin's father, Cassim.

_Jasmine, _

_There is no greater joy I have felt in these past fifteen years than reuniting with Aladdin and meeting his new, beautiful wife. My son is truly fortunate to have found such a wonderful partner in life. I feel blessed to have witnessed to your wedding, and am eternally grateful for the compassion and kindness of you and the Sultan. I realize I may never see my son again, and while that thought plagues my soul, I accept my destiny and am at peace knowing he is safe, loved, and has a bright future before him. While I understand my stars have already been cast in fate and understand I will spend the remainder of my life on the run, I am thrilled to have found my son and seen the man I had always dreamed he would be. He always deserved better than what he was given, and I smile to know he will have the life I prayed Allah would grant him. _

_While our reunion was unexpected and brief, there were so many things I was unable to discuss with Aladdin in the chaos of those short weeks. During our discussions there was always one item I wanted to share with him, but was never able to find the words. Cowardly as it is, I recognize leaving you with this information is a burden you should not need to endure, yet I will leave it to you to decide if he should ever learn this information. His mother and I were so blessed in our few short years together before I left, and she passed, yet Aladdin remembers so little from those years we spent together as a family. When I left my family, I was not only leaving my wife and Aladdin, but I was also leaving his brother._

Jasmine gasped, her eyes widening as she froze, unable to comprehend his scrawled words. Her eyes lifting from the parchment, her legs suddenly became unsteady as she wavered, her mouth agape as she tried to understand his letter. Idly, she realized her hands were shaking, quivering as she reread his declaration several times to ensure she had read it correctly. Questions began to tumble through her mind, cascading through a torrent of emotions as her heart pounded in her chest. Just when Aladdin had finally come to accept what became of his family and was at peace with his father, he drops _this_ on her. Trying to focus, she noticed the letter continued…

_I am certain Aladdin does not remember his older brother, nor am I sure his brother would remember him as they were both fairly young when I left. Only separated by a year between them, they were still mere toddlers the last time I saw them together. While I never knew what became of Aladdin after I left, I do know where his brother went, yet have never been able to reconnect with him. Months after I left, my wife had successfully sent a letter to my own mother, beseeching her to help with our boys, pleading for assistance since our eldest boy was causing trouble. By the time she had reached Agrabah, my wife was already gone and Aladdin was nowhere to be found. Our eldest boy, however, was traced near our home. Reluctant to allow him to grow and develop into thievery or worse, my mother sent our eldest son away to become an apprentice to a lord who was adept to handling difficult children. The details are unknown to me, but I do remember this lord's name was Destane and he ruled a city across the desert from Agrabah ..._

Jasmine dropped the letter and backed away from it, unwilling to believe the statement delicately etched across the parchment. "No," she whispered, aghast at the implications of Aladdin's father's words. There was a few remaining sentences on the paper, but Jasmine was unable to read any more; she already knew it would confirm what she was slowly piecing together. Her hands now violently trembling, she carefully picked up the letter and refolded it, placing it back inside the ivory envelope and into the drawer it originated from. Closing her eyes, she braced herself against her bureau and took a long, steady breath to ease the hammering in her heart.

"Jasmine, are you okay?" Aladdin tenderly asked, stepping into their chambers as he watched her attempt to recover from her shock.

Jumping in surprise at his sudden presence, she tried to appear relaxed as she took a deep breath and pushed a smile across her lips, "Oh, I'm fine," she assured him, "Just tired from our trip. It's good to be home." Greeting him with a hug, she pressed herself against him and swallowed tightly, unable to shake his father's news.

"Are you sure? You looked like something was wrong," Taking her hands in his, Aladdin bent back slightly to meet his eyes with hers, surveying her expression as he searched for what troubled her. "No more secrets," he reminded her with a grin.

Breaking from his embrace, she turned, her eyes crestfallen with what she had been precipitously privy to. She knew she had to tell him yet was pained with knowing how he would undoubtedly react. Everything had been so exceedingly perfect and unspoiled since their wedding, and she felt miserable to know it was all coming to an immediate halt just on the heels of their return. Their home and city, she knew, was not known for steady phases of amity and tranquility.

As he became increasingly worried as he watched her battle an internal debate whether to share what she knew, Aladdin pressed, "Jasmine, what is it?"

With a heavy heart and deep sigh, she began, "Aladdin …" Her words felt like syrup in her mouth, heavy with dread and thick with misery. Opening her drawer once again, she pulled the letter and clutched it tightly.

"What is that?" He queried, stepping closer to examine it.

"I found this … I wasn't sure how to tell you." Her hands started to tremble once again. "I wasn't sure _if_ I could tell you."

"Tell me what?" His worry beginning to heighten as he arched a brow and his gaze fell on the letter she tightly held, still inept to pass it to him. His mind began to swarm with a myriad of appalling possibilities the letter could entail, each one more horrific and unbearable than the last.

Realizing she was slowly tormenting him with the unknown, she finally handed it to him and watched him inspect the envelope before opening it and retrieving its contents. "It's from your father." Grimacing as he unfolded the parchment and began to scan his father's words, she watched his initial smile as he completed the first few sentences began to fade as he fell deeper in the written words. Jasmine bit her lip and watched his eyes slowly descend, his brow beginning to furrow as his jaw tightened. As his expression flushed to confusion, she knew he was approaching the sentences she was still trying to swallow.

"Wha–" He recoiled, his head shaking slightly as he blinked in incredulity, "I have a brother!?" As Aladdin looked at Jasmine in astonishment, she returned his gaze with sympathy, wishing it was all he would learn. "But how? Wouldn't I have remembered?" His mind began to frantically delve through innumerable memories, faint and hazy, lost throughout the years. As of late, memories of his childhood had been inconsequential as he began focusing on his future with Jasmine, and he realized he had clearly repressed some very significant details from his early years.

With a gulp, Jasmine wrung her hands as she watched him struggle to believe, "Aladdin, you need to keep reading."

Acquiescent to her urge, he returned to the document, his eyes continuing from where he had stopped. She watched him calculate as he read, trying to decipher what his father had written and what he was trying to recollect from so many years before. She held her breath as he approached the bottom of the message where she had stopped, preparing herself for his response.

Just as Jasmine had done in bafflement and disbelief, Aladdin dropped the letter.


End file.
